Unnova

By: Windgale


Disclaimer or whatever: Inspired by A Very Potter Musical, and takes places within the confines of its story line. Follow along, okay? This takes place later at night after the song "Different." The actual song, not the reprise. -cough- Follow along, okay?


It was late. Too late. Quirrell could sense that Voldemort had already fallen asleep as he lied on his hard bed in the teacher's dorm at Hogwarts. He should be asleep, he thought. He had too much work to do the next day to not be asleep. Still, it bothered him. It wouldn't get out of his mind. He wanted to roll over and clear his mind, but neither option seemed possible at the moment. Eventually, he decided to 'just do it.'

"Voldemort?" he shifted himself slightly to wake the other man. Voldemort mumbled incoherently as he woke.

"Whaddya want Quirrell...?" he slurred sleepily. Normally he'd be furious at anyone who woke him at such an obscene hour, but he was too exhausted to do anything.

"Did you really mean it when you called me a sissy?" Quirrell asked nervously. He half braced, ready for the crucio curse that he was nearly positive would follow, but it didn't come. In fact, nothing came period. He assumed that Voldemort had fallen back asleep, which was for the best, he assumed. He resumed trying to sleep himself.

"What're you talkin' about Quirrell?" Voldemort responded eventually. Quirrell opened his eyes again, surprised that the Dark Lord was still conscious.

"Earlier." Quirrell said. "You called me a sissy, a twat, and a girl. Did you mean it?" he asked again. He heard Voldemort chuckle lightly from behind him. He almost sounded drunk, which amused Quirrell a bit and lightened his nerves.

"Mostly. You're so weak." he chuckled again. "Now can I go back to sleep?" Voldemort shifted his head on the pillow and tried to slip back into sleep, but Quirrell wasn't having it.

"What do you mean mostly?" he asked. He tried not to make it too obvious that he was agreeing with the fact what he was weak. His strength was mental, not physical. Voldemort grumbled for being woken again, but answered.

"You're pretty smart." Had he been fully awake, he would have never complimented Quirrell, but he just wanted him to shut up. "That's kind of a strength... thing." He paused. "But you're definitely a twat." he laughed.

Quirrell had no idea what to make of his response. He had given him a compliment, then taken it away, to a point. He shrugged it off, though. He'd gotten his answer.

"You're a twat." Quirrell said blatantly. He wasn't about to just let anyone, even Voldemort, flat out insult him.

"We're both twats, now let's go to sleep." Voldemort knew continuing the fight would only further deprive them both of much needed sleep. Quirrell nodded and they both fell back asleep.


Author's Note: This was written deep into the night, where my dialogue skills turn into some wild, pen eating beast. I had to get this out of my system, so here it is, typed for your viewing pleasure. Also, ignore the gay paragraphs, gay title, and gay... gayness. Oh, wait, you've ignored my whole story, then. I couldn't think of a better title, okay?

Other: This is not the fully story. It goes on. Yeah, seriously. But it's all downhill from there, so, if you want the rest of it, comment about it and I might slap the full ending up there one day. Trust me, there's a reason this story is so short, and it's because the rest of it got cut out for making no sense/following no plot. But it's decent.